


Il me faut vous

by praxilla



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, it got pretty smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:09:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4309956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/praxilla/pseuds/praxilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh wow jeez this spiraled out of control.. The TF2 timeline is all out of whack and trying to write a believable well-rounded Miss Pauling who's somewhere between Expiration Date and comics Pauling is pretty difficult but I did my best to try to make them both as believable as I could but this is pure self indulgence. sorry about any weird tense shifts or overuse of semicolons or any other grammatical anomalies</p><p>the title means 'I need you' in french</p></blockquote>





	Il me faut vous

Recently, new solitary missions had been trickling from the chain smoking head in purple down to the mercenaries; funneled, of course, through her already overworked assistant. Being bogged down by the endless work was the norm at TF Industries, most of all for the mercs and the only other person competent enough to be permitted to dress in purple: Miss Pauling. From the Gravel Wars to the robot onslaught, there had always been too much to do and not much time left for anything else. Miss Pauling liked to keep busy though, work made her feel accomplished even if that work had her trying to rinse off the smell of quicklime and decay in the shower most nights. So Helen's mousy clean-up crew of one found a hefty stack of manila files each stamped [TOP SECRET] waiting for her on her desk when she walked into work one morning, and she knew the Administrator had some ulterior motives. When did the woman not. She wasn't about to guess at what they were however, she figured she'd find out if the Administrator wanted her to find out. She tried to keep her groan internal as she thought about the mountain of effort dumped upon her after a late night and how hard it was to get out of bed that morning. Each file was prefaced with some information for her eyes only, mainly as cut and dry as was customary of her superior's instructions. Give this contract to this mercenary on this date and so forth, but she noted curiously that the Engineer's were addressed to him by name. Regardless, Miss Pauling knew better than to bother the Admin with questions so she followed orders and began issuing contracts amongst the nine mercenaries.

How she managed to find time to squeeze in calls to the mercs between making bodies left in their wake disappear was anyone's guess. Many of the messages she left had a definite air of frazzled and hurried, even the ones where sleep deprivation was starting to get the best of her after a few days and she got carried away in jovial familiarity, doing accents and ribbing the guys. Despite the pack of criminals that they were, she was fairly comfortable with the mercenaries, well, all but one really. Eight of the nine had at least twenty years or more on her and treated her with the utmost respect having seen what she could do to make corpses out of witnesses and bread monsters alike. That's not to say Scout didn't respect her, quite the opposite; he reveled in her. She caught his eyes on her during briefings occasionally, and knew he was thinking about more than her rundown of the next team effort. The problem was that she almost appreciated the worshipful gaze. She was well aware of Scout's... disposition towards her, but she denied to herself that he was attractive in some ways, it conflicted with work. She remembered all too well what action the Administrator took upon finding that a BLU and a RED had kindled a friendship. Though she shuddered to think of the shallow grave that would be dug if she discovered her own assistant was fraternizing with a mercenary; she couldn't help but entertain the daydream of giving in to curiosity. It's not like the Administrator was completely innocent of indulging in a workplace romance, Miss Pauling had been in the same room as her and Saxton enough times to figure it out. So she had considered giving Scout a chance, especially after he managed to convince her that he wasn't just flirting with her because she was the only woman he had sustained contact with, when he wanted to spend his supposed dying hour on a date with her. Though she had been furious that he had _pulled the briefcase alarm_  to summon her, once everything was clear she had to admit she was kind of flattered. She refused to give any hint of it away on her recent work calls to Scout however, she praised him with a surprised "Good job, Scout" when he accomplished an objective, and she couldn't afford to joke with him over the line. She had no problem telling the other guys "____ I need you" but she had felt the need to reassert to Scout that it was just for a job. The times in the past that he had flirted with her while on the clock meant that she couldn't give him an inch or he'd take it and run a mile, and she could never be fully sure what the Administrator would hear about.

After a few weeks of issuing private jobs, and despite her request to not "tell the other guys about this one" all the mercs knew the others were being assigned their own contracts, even Scout, though he had not been sworn to secrecy in the same way, he hadn't felt the need to brag. He knew the others were getting the same calls from Miss Pauling and that he wasn't special in that respect, but he still highly anticipated her strictly business calls nonetheless. It made him feel like her carefully selected professional, hand picked to carry out this job for her, which was only a stretch of the truth. Ultimately he was selected by and assigned work by the Voice, but he had never met the woman in person, Miss Pauling was his only connection to her aside from video displays sent on the bodies of messengers and her ominous announcing during matches. He didn't see the harm in getting carried away in fantasies, especially since at this point he was thinking fantasies would be all he'd ever get. She had seemed perfectly open to the idea of going on a date with him, or at least spending time with him while she worked, and though he'd passed on the more grisly ride-alongs she'd offered, he spent many a late evening in her office with her while she filed paperwork. It was only on the night when they stayed late enough for her hair to be coming out of its chignon and them to be setting each other off yawning that she took his hand when she was sure they were out of sight of any cameras at least as they walked through the cool desert air; and left him with a chaste kiss to the cheek before she hopped behind the wheel of the violet truck that made her look so small and drove down the gravel path. He'd gone to bed that night feeling like he'd never felt before, about anybody, and was almost scared by how exhilarating a simple gesture of affection from her felt; but already that was more than a year ago.

So he enjoyed the work. It was hard to tell observing him through the many surveillance camera displays while he worked that he was the youngest of eight and subsequently babied growing up, but it was true. The company had records on that kind of thing, she'd seen it. Of the nine murderers for hire, the Scout was probably of the most emotionally sensitive, which is why she deliberated for so long over reciprocation of any kind. After so many years working a job such as hers at such an admittedly young age she'd begun to think romance was out of the question for her, the only relationship she'd ever been in was more than six years ago at that point, before she started working as Helen's assistant. She'd had a crush on a girl early on during her stint in college, so they dated for a while and it was fireworks that had fizzled quickly and she feared the same from Scout. Yet despite all the pointedly ignored come-ons, the fact that he would still try to ask her to dinner with the barest of smirks while slumped over one end of her desk while he kept her company on long boring nights doing paperwork made it very difficult to keep a straight face.

It was a Friday when everyone had completed their contracts for the week, and Miss Pauling was hauling boxes of incriminating paperwork on a dolly out to her truck to be burned in a pit in the open desert. After the second trip she realized two more in this heat would be punishing. She fanned herself sitting sideways out the driver's seat in the shade, and stared at her clunky mobile radio. Taking a deep breath, she snatched it and hit the button to tune to Scout's headset frequency. "Scout, I need you to report down to the southwest end of the compound." she said as soon as the line connected. His reply came as swiftly as was his specialty, though she caught herself pondering whether he did or he didn't do _everything_ too quickly, causing her to lean her right elbow on the wheel as she brought her hand to her sweaty brow trying to commandeer her train of thought, blaming the heat as he was saying:

"Sure, Miss P. Got an extra job for me?"

Her light jade eyes rolled slightly up into their lids. She underestimated him in thinking that he might not pick up on the fact that, of all their recent jobs, she had never told the mercs to physically go somewhere unless they were assigned to another compound, that this was an unusual call. The gun had gone off so she'd might as well bite the bullet.

"Yes, but how much you get to do is up to you. And Scout, don't tell the other guys about this." she practically tossed the radio back onto the dash and suppressed the urge to drag her palm down her face.

Scout buzzed with energy the whole time he jogged across the grounds. He didn't know exactly what, but he knew something was up. She had sounded really earnest right before she hung up, and it had him turning the corner and seeing her purple truck come into view within minutes. She leaned against the shady side, inspecting the lacquered nails on one hand. He had half hoped she'd be waiting there for him, half expected a dossier with further instructions. She noticed him as he got closer, pushed herself lightly from the metal exterior to approach, wheeling a hand truck in front of her. He didn't didn't fail to notice the flick of her lids roving over his figure as he inhaled, his breathing only barely elevated from the run and her proximity.

"Help me move some more of these boxes of paper to my truck," she breezed past him toward the nearest entrance to the building.

"Of course. Anything," he breathed before pivoting around and falling into step with her. "Want me to carry that, or..." he indicated towards the metal frame she now wheeled behind her, but she shook her head.

"There's only three more boxes, but I can only carry two with this, so if you could just carry the last one," they had entered the blessed air conditioning of the inner facility and turned down a couple halls before stopping outside an office. She brought her left hand, the one holding her keys, to her face to swipe an errant lock of hair from her mouth with her ring finger while she deftly chose the right key on the ring. There probably wasn't enough time to lean on the wall but he did anyway because the plaster felt cool on his back, and she presently had the door open and had wheeled in and parked the dolly. He followed her through and was ready with the second box once she'd moved the first one. She adjusted her glasses and placed her hands over his as they slid out of the cardboard handholds and she muttered a thanks. He internally cursed the barrier covering a good portion of his palms by his fist wrappings, but quickly forgot it as the edge of the cardboard bit into the unprotected flesh of his fingers for a split second before he adjusted his grip on the last box. Who knew paper could be so heavy. He stepped through the door and waited patiently while she locked up, and she said to him casually "I've got to go burn all this evidence but then I'm free for the night. I figured you'd want to come along for the ride?" and her voice swooped up on the last word so delightfully. All he had to do was grin in response.

Once they'd loaded everything into the truck bed and she was gunning it over the dirt and scrub, she tapped her index fingers at the top of the wheel. She felt Scout's eyes on her, and glanced over at him. He looked about as nervous as she felt, even if he tried to hide it while under her gaze. "Seat belt," was all she said. He obliged. He followed the movement of her hand as she switched gears, and noted that she had forgone pantyhose today. Made sense with the season. Her truck wasn't exactly his type of car per se, he was more of a roadster kind of guy, but it was so her that he admired it anyway for it's utility and it's purple detailing down to the interior. It was even rounded and curvy like her. He tried not to appreciate the sound her sticky thigh made peeling off the gray leather seat each time she let off the gas or breaks too much. Eventually she had pulled around to the far side of a hill near the encampment and killed the engine. She let out a rush of breath in the sudden quiet to blow away a strand of her bangs. For once, away from the watchful eye of their employer, she allowed herself to really analyze him for a moment. She leaned her head back to rest on the wall of the cab and noticed how pronounced his light dusting of sun freckles looked in the golden lighting of early sunset. He was tall enough that the light fell just below his eyes but it bounced right up through the irises which reflected back, giving her a feeling of being seen through. His hands twitched anxiously on his thighs. Her gaze skirted over veins on its way back up to meet his. Her expression softened as they sat for a second just looking at each other's faces but it wasn't long before she unbuckled her seat belt and said "Matches are in the glove" as she swung the door open.

She lowered the gate to the bed and retrieved her shovel to clear away some strategically placed scrub from a shallow pit in the dirt dug previously. She shoveled a little bit of the dirt from the top to deepen the hole and exposed some ashes from a prior burn. She straightened her back and dabbed at the dampness of her forehead with the back of her wrist to find Scout plopping the last box nearby. She gave him a genuine smile to which he responded by clutching at his chest left of center and staggering back dramatically as if he'd been impaled by a Huntsman, and she actually laughed. He snickered with her and they stacked the boxes in a heap before he produced the box of matchsticks from his pocket; handed her one before taking another for himself. The cardboard caught easily, and soon he threw his used match in the space in between boxes. "Technically only I'm supposed to know this stuff even has to be destroyed, but then again I shouldn't have kidnapped you in the first place so we won't let the Administrator know about this, she probably wouldn't be very interested." her eyes glinted over the building flame.

"Wouldn't dream of it." he assured. He was very tempted to gather her up into his side as she tossed her match into the pile and she crossed back around a safe distance away to lean against the warm metal beside him. Something was different with her tonight. He felt like he had some sort of chance, but he also felt like kicking himself for having the thought. Regardless, she was close enough it was as if he could practically feel her pulse as energy and he kept getting wafts of the smell of her from the top of her head: sweaty and earthy and yet perfume-y with the same scent he'd caught in the spongy interior of the bread beast and the time she'd kissed him goodnight that was just her, all at the same time. His heart was already hammering in his rib cage after standing there with her for a few minutes but it jumped to his throat when he felt her arm brush his and heard the slight shift of gravel under her flats and the quiet flicker of flames licking at paper. He turned to look at her, couldn't help his arm draping tentatively around her shoulders at the look of openness she gave him, but raised his eyebrows all the same. He would kiss her til she was breathless if only she'd ask, but he was still skeptical. "You okay? Is something up- I mean I-"

She had stepped closer on tip toe to meld herself to his side, rested her hand over his on her shoulder; and was pressing her lips to his neck, testing the feeling of his carotid artery jumping under his skin and the prominent cord-like muscle stretching to his collarbone tensing when her nose brushed over it. She tilted until the tip of her nose was almost behind his ear and he cocked his head as he sighed involuntarily to give her better purchase, only making the muscle more pronounced. Her lips parted and she tasted the salt on his skin, caught the heady dry scent of it, puffed a breath over the dampened spot causing him to shiver in spite of the warm early evening air, and pulled away remembering her lipstick only when she saw the plum crescents of it imprinted on his throat. She bit her lower lip to fight a smile and this close he found it very difficult to contain the desire to bury his hand in her hair and take those lips in his own, but decided to err on the side of caution. It was unlikely she'd appreciate him snagging his fingers in the purple clips he spied nestled in her dark and shiny locks. He wondered not for the first time how long her hair was when it was down and found himself running his index and middle finger along her bangs to clear them from her crooked glasses. She drew air in, lips parted as she decided on what to say, and he smelled so nice that she wanted to give in to the more primal, demanding compulsion in her that drowned out the rational voice telling her to step away and drive them back to the Powerhouse. "Could you... do one more favor for me,"

He wasn't entirely unintuitive, he would like nothing more than to trap her body with his up against the side of the truck right then and hike her skirt up to let his hands roam and explore expanses of ivory skin. What stopped him was he wasn't even entirely certain she'd like it if he did it like that. He just couldn't believe she was insinuating, that she might be actually asking something like this of him; he didn't want to hope too high, didn't want to be used once and dumped. He didn't even know her first name. It seemed as though she picked up on some of that by reading his expression: thick brows in danger of disappearing under the brim of his cap and jaw slack, revealing the edges of his large front teeth. Her nose crinkled in amusement and her slim hand examined the bony corner of his jaw. He managed to gather his wits and ignore for the moment the feeling of her breasts squished between them, using her chipped nail polish over his hand as a centering point. "Whuh- what exactly did ya have in mind?" his mouth quirked up higher on one side, his voice, with her so near, lowered as much as it could, and reverberated through her chest pleasantly. The sun had slipped past the horizon, but the sky was still light and pastel, causing the reds in the rock around them and the sunny tones in his skin to stand out. Gaze lowered, her fingers found their way interlocked with his and she hummed, considering what it was she wanted; it showed on her face as she chewed her lip. She felt daring, adventurous, electric; similar to how she felt after he swung her into a dip to avoid a swinging appendage of the yeasty beast and she shot another one before it had the chance to whip down upon them. The adrenaline was unmistakable from the pounding of their hearts, a familiar sensation from when she rested on top of him briefly in the cavity of the creature, but this time she felt calmer, and they both felt distinctly giddy and not from surviving a near-death experience. She stood flat on her feet, tipped her head which only reached to about his shoulder, and placed her chin in the crook of his neck before answering:

"I hadn't thought that far to be honest, just that I've seen the way you look at me from time to time and-" she huffed, turned and muffled herself, pinned his hands to the steel behind them, "-I don't know," the soft noise of her lips releasing from the skin of this throat felt magnified, "I've had to keep things distanced because of work but today-" she removed herself enough to look at him. "I guess I- just want to try. Us." the heat that had been pooling in her lower gut showed itself as it crept up her chest and flushed her cheeks. "So if you want, we'll figure out together?" He flicked back and forth between her eyes in disbelief, searching for any sign of doubt; she noted his pupils were blown wide in the half light provided by the blaze behind her and the way he glanced down at her mouth, back up, and down again. She closed the gap. Gently at first, experimental. Her lips felt waxy on his from the residual lipstick, but she was soft and warm and he couldn't stop a small whimper-groan from escaping when he parted his jaw against hers. It caused her face to pull back a bit, wearing a smile. She dragged his hands upwards, seemingly so much bigger compared to hers, so as to better entrap him while she murmured "One condition: I am in charge." The intensity of her glare felt deadly and it never crossed his mind that she wasn't, it was all he could do to swallow thickly and nod enthusiastically. She watched his adam's apple bob as she extricated herself and went for the door handle.

"Should we- ah- put out the fire or- wait til it's done? er something" he sputtered, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. She lifted herself up on the seat and waved dismissively.

"It'll be fine, I usually let it go until there isn't anything left anyway," her teeth found her bottom lip, and then she said, more softly, "C'mere" taking handfuls of his t-shirt to pull him close. Her mouth traced his jaw before meeting with his once more. Taking him with her, she fell back, pulled him further into the cab. He clambered until he knelt between her thighs, a calf on either side of his torso arced over hers. He nuzzled at the hollow of her neck and her breathy shivery laugh had a direct effect in the tensing of his lower abdominals. She was tugging his shirt free from his waistband and he straightened enough to grab at the back of it and slide it over his head. He deliberated a second before setting it on the dashboard and turning his attention back to her where she leaned, unbuckling the belt cinched around her waist and not caring where it fell. He placed careful hands on her knees while she looked like she was thinking. Her face was flushed as hell, and he assumed his was similarly, the breeze from the open door cooling the moisture across his back. Absentmindedly, his thumbs swept over smooth shape of her joints as she unbuttoned her blouse and he watched the goosebumps that bloomed over newly exposed skin. Her breathing seemed loud in the confined space, and she let her fingers trail over his lithe musculature. He wasn't quite the shortest of the mercenaries, but he was the lightest, and seemed so much smaller standing next to them on grainy video feeds. It was different having him thoroughly within her personal space. She was strong enough to haul bodies of men much larger than her, but her body hid it underneath an even distribution of cushioning over a frame that barely cleared five feet which she never really thought about until the feeling of lean planes of his flesh proved to be a pleasant contrast to the mass of her thighs. Deciding to move things along, her right hand pushed down on his shoulder while she spread her legs wider.

He got the hint. Using his teeth to loosen the wrappings on one hand while the other slid beneath the hem of her skirt, he observed the rise and fall of her chest from this adjusted angle. She could feel her heartbeat pounding throughout her body, fleetingly worried whether or not he'd be any good, but it proved not to be a problem as coherent thoughts became hazy when she felt his left hand caress the swell of her hip while the fingers on his right delicately traced her outer labia over the fabric of her panties. She sighed and allowed her eyelids to flutter. He observed her intently, watched for any signs of discomfort and tried not to let himself get too carried away. She helped him bunch her skirt up to her waist and he cradled her hips as he kissed the pale skin revealed between her hipbones. The headset dug into her thigh as his mouth traversed lower, peppering her with kisses, so she reached down and removed it along with his hat in favor of carding her fingers through his slightly sweat-dampened tawny hair. The way her hips rolled when she felt his fingers curl under the elastic of her underwear wasn't fully voluntary but, quick as a flash, he had slid the garment over one ankle. His bare hand maintained contact with her inner thigh on its way up, his thumb swept dangerously close to her center, causing her to give a short breathy precursor to a moan in her impatience. He had the distinct sensation that he was dreaming, that the image of her before him was one conjured up by his own addled mind, but his dreams had never been this explicit. She felt all too real under the hand which brushed over her wiry yet neatly trimmed pubic hair, heat and musk radiating intoxicatingly close to his face. His index finger tested her entrance to find it hot, wet, and inviting. His lower lip rolled under his teeth, he glanced back up to her face when she gasped heavily as he sank the digit part of the way into her and his tongue stroked up to her clit. She had her brows furrowed and her glasses were wildly askew. He moved carefully, stopping and pulling out the instant he felt resistance so that the next insertion glided more easily.

She tried not to moan, but he really seemed to know what he was doing down there and she would probably be impressed later, once she had more capacity for it. Her breathing quickly became ragged and turned to sighs on each exhale as the minutes blended together, and she reminded herself just how alone they were out there in the desert as she was rapidly losing control over errant muscle contractions; she figured she could afford to make some noise. When his tongue worked with his lips over the nub just right she groaned softly and was able to feel the corners of his mouth twitch against her. She chanced a look down at his face between her thighs to find him staring at her with glazed eyes and the look of wanting to smile, and while at the worst of times that sort of face made her want to unload a gun in him to send him to Respawn just to get him out of her hair and at the best of times she found it boyishly charming, right now her flesh felt aflame like she was some sort of goddess she had permitted this mortal to touch. It seemed she wasn't sure what to do with her hands, they alternated between gripping the leather seat and his hair, slid along her own body before settling on her face under her glasses as she moaned throatily. It made Scout groan himself and pant open-mouthed for a few breaths, mostly to give his jaw a bit of a break, but she was pushing him away, groping for his discarded length of bandaging. "Lay on your back" she commanded, her voice sounded wrecked. He complied, and she already had both his wrists in a firm grip and had begun to wind the material around, effectively binding his hands together. When she'd finished, she gave him a quick kiss, felt the stickiness of her still on his chin, and proceeded to undo his belt buckle.

He squirmed beneath her light touch and his constraints, once she'd gotten the fly open he wriggled to help her help him partway out of his trousers. She left them around mid thigh, him clearly straining in his briefs. She inhaled, shimmied up to swing a leg over either side of his waist, straddling him. He put off the same kind of heat the metal exterior of her truck did, both having spent the day in the sun. He wanted desperately to touch her, grazed his knuckle along her inner thigh before she grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head. They admired each other for enough time for her to regain some of her breath, just absorbing one another. Her hand left his but the message was clear: paws off. She took her time feeling along the taut muscles of his arm, knowing she could name most of the structures that were nicely defined in this position; her fingers paused at a clear bullet grazing scar along the top right of his trapezius and she looked at him questioningly. Wounds sustained in battle that were healed by the Medigun or Respawn left no scar. Clear blue eyes flicked to where she indicated.

"Oh. I got in a scrap back in Boston, before I- er... I was seventeen, he had a gun. Lucky he just nicked me," he chuckled, which caused his lower abdomen to connect with cooled moisture, and she sank further to sit on him properly when he writhed slightly. He licked his lips, tasted the salty tang left from her there. "I had to have my third oldest brother patch me up. I guess some scars stick around like have you noticed that one on Snipe's ch-" she placed a hand securely over his throat to quiet him, not enough to restrict airflow, though she did adjust her grasp up under his jaw slightly just to feel both pulse points under her fingertips. The other hand traveled delicately down his torso and he glanced out the windows of the cab to note what a lovely shade of lilac the twilight was.

She ground her hips slowly, let her wandering palm test the new territory that lay inches from her rear. She felt his moan in the other, and the vibration in her slim bones felt like power. Of course he'd be vocal. Her palm and the skin beneath cotton alike were sticky, as was his back, indicated by the sound it made detaching from the leather seat when he arched it; she took the opportunity to steel herself and push the article out of the way. He stood at attention, ruddy and probably aching. Her grip on his neck loosened, though her hand stayed where it was while she inspected, the light touch coaxing precum from him. He hummed, bent his knees and widened his legs what little he could with his pants still around his toned runner's thighs. She bent forward until her stomach rested on his and kissed him gingerly, to which he responded well, yearning to have more contact with her, he kissed everything he could reach, which was mostly just her face. She reached past him, to a compartment under the floor rug which contained spare bullets amongst other things, and returned with a foil packet. He had nothing to say as she rolled the condom on, only sighed at the contact. She dragged her nails down his chest appreciating the blush coloring his cheeks and ears and the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off of her. It was as though he was trying to sear details into his memory, everything from the ghostly vein upon her breast to the clean shampoo scent which perfumed through the air when she unclasped the barrette and clips in her hair to shake it out. It curled lazily at the ends, fell to mid back, and he longed to be able to run his hands through it.

She positioned him with her left hand, the other found its way back to its place on his throat, and she sank down carefully at first. Mildly surprised by how easily she was taking him, she had him down to the hilt and felt no pain, only a pleasurable stretch. She was incredibly turned on, more than she had been any of the times she'd gotten herself off in the last few years. He emitted a strangled moan and she couldn't contain one of her own as her body twitched around the addition, adjusting to the feeling of him hot and heavy and filling her. It wasn't long before she was rocking her hips against his at a leisurely pace. He made a wide variety of noises and his expression was absolutely blissed out as he looked all over her, his gaze kept drifting to the point at which they connected, mesmerized by the repetition and lull of her movements. Her breathing hitched gradually as she worked herself up around him. Each time her hips lifted off his, her hand dug into his throat and each time she pushed back down her grip relaxed, causing his head to whirl from the alternating sensations. That and that a good portion of his blood supply that would otherwise be in his brain wasn't at the moment and that her slow pace and tight grip had him gasping to inhale when she eased off so he could hold his breath while she was down again. She pursed her lips and keened when her clit ground against his pelvis on the uptake, causing him to gasp an "oh god" and buck involuntarily. Her jaw fell slack, breathing elevated to panting, and she let her hips hover slightly to allow him to move in time with her. The cab was filled with both of their breathing and the occasional clink from his dog tags. Bracing herself with the hand around his throat, the other hand slid from his hip bone to the top of her sensitized vulva. That was when she really started to come undone.

Her hair swung in a dark curtain above him, he felt her constrict around him briefly, his hands itched to rest over her hips. He didn't know how much longer he'd last but it probably wouldn't be long with her moaning more frequently and her thighs squeezing him. She felt it coiling and building in her core and there was no stopping the noise coming from the rush of her lungs. Massaging her clit heightened the sensation of him in her to the point that her orgasm crept up on her, signaled by waves of muscle contractions and a long, sweet moan. She'd clamped down on him and the rhythmic clenching set off his own finish, with him heaving like an animal while she gyrated and stroked the spasming planes of his torso as they both came down. She hummed as he slid out of her when she moved to untie his wrists. He brought them limply to his lower rib cage, seemingly floored. She kissed his cheek and rubbed at the dried residue on his chin, and he brought his arms up around her to bury his face in her hair, inhaling deeply as they chuckled breathily.

They managed to retrieve all their clothes, after a quick hunt for her underwear, the rubber tossed on the fire to be burned along with the other incriminating evidence. They waited for the flame to burn low enough that it flickered over nothing but ashes and she expertly redid her hair while he shoveled dirt over the pyre. They rode back to the facility under the first stars of evening in comfortable quiet, and when his hand wandered into hers over the stick shift, she let it stay. Before long they returned to the base, just as the lights around the grounds came on for the night. She let the truck idle outside the entrance while Scout exited the vehicle and came around to the driver window. Her gave her a meek smile once she lowered the glass and she inspected the blooming bruises on either side of his neck, one large one on his right and four evenly spaced ovals on the left. Very conspicuous. Maybe she should worry about that more but all she wanted to do at that point was get home and shower and sleep. So she leaned out the window, his face in both her hands and one of his at the back of his neck and she kissed him tenderly for a second or two or three before whispering against his lips "Thank you,"

Scout tried to make it through the break room on his way to the bunks without drawing attention to himself for once, despite how he felt that he should be shouting from the rooftops. He should have expected the team would be there gathered amicably on the weekend, and that they would all be aware that he was missing. He was greeted when he walked in the room by the majority of them playing cards and listening to what appeared to be Sniper delivering the latest gossip. With his luck, the crocodile dundee had seen enough through that scope of his, Scout thought nervously when Sniper dropped what he was saying once he noticed the young gun enter the room. "Oi there's the bloke now," and all eight and a half pairs of eyes in the room were on him. It was difficult to tell in the case of Pyro, Engineer, and Sniper, but he was fairly certain they were all zeroed in on the marks on his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow jeez this spiraled out of control.. The TF2 timeline is all out of whack and trying to write a believable well-rounded Miss Pauling who's somewhere between Expiration Date and comics Pauling is pretty difficult but I did my best to try to make them both as believable as I could but this is pure self indulgence. sorry about any weird tense shifts or overuse of semicolons or any other grammatical anomalies
> 
> the title means 'I need you' in french


End file.
